


puppy love

by vivacissimo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Mild Kink, One Big Happy Family, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivacissimo/pseuds/vivacissimo
Summary: While the Stark-Targaryen family may seem to enjoy a life of domestic bliss, there are still things they don't see eye-to-eye on. Like what to do about their son's feral puppy, Ghost.
Relationships: Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	puppy love

**Author's Note:**

> basically the kink involved is a very soft daddy kink, spanking, and mild overstim. also proper use of a safeword.

Lyanna Stark-Targaryen lives a pretty blessed life, if she does say so herself. 

She does, she really does, and she’s grateful to whoever is up there, out there, wherever they may be for making it all possible. For starters, her three brothers are her best friends and confidants, a real miracle considering how tumultuous the past few years have been. She also lives in a sprawling estate on the edge of King’s Landing big enough to raise horses on, which is an absolute dream for any equestrian. Most incredibly, she is just under a year away from defending her doctoral thesis, which is coming together as well as possible all things considered. 

The estate she lives on used to be a castle in the Middle Ages, apparently, but it was retrofitted for modern times back in the 80s, and Rhaegar hired an interior designer with a bottomless budget for Lyanna when she first moved in just so that she could make it all her own. That’s her husband—thoughtful, beautiful Rhaegar, who Lyanna is proud to have by her side. He’s been so supportive and loving all these years while she does her degree that Lyanna can’t believe she ever thought it wouldn’t work out between them. Rhaegar was just a thrill for her at the beginning, secret trysts she was having with an experienced older man who flung open the door to things she’d always been curious about but never had the chance to explore. He insists he was all-in from the beginning, a closet hopeless romantic lover, but speaking for herself, all horny nineteen year old Lyanna had cared about was how amazing the sex was. Which, don’t get her wrong, the sex is still great. It’s just different now.

All thanks to Jon. _Her baby, Jon._ When she fell pregnant she was not so sure about keeping it, because she was only 20 and had zero clue what she was doing with her life. She told Rhaegar about it cause she had to tell someone, and she figured he should shoulder some of the stress of an unplanned pregnancy.

Needless to say, he’d convinced her on the parenthood front, and by the time Jon was born they were living together and she had a massive diamond on her finger. _A symbol of how much I love you both,_ he told her when he proposed, _of course, we can wait as long as you wish._ Jon was three years old when they finally had a whole big thing about it, and Lyanna hasn’t looked back since.

Jon is six now, her mischievous curly-headed boy who always has a big smile in store for his Mama and Papa. He was the most incredible kid, bright as the sun, happy as a clam, and sweeter than sugar. He played well with other kids, especially Ned’s boy Robb and precious little Dany, and he loved nothing more than to tell her all about his day. Lyanna adores listening to his little boy voice, smelling the earthy mess of his hair after he plays outside, kissing his tiny hands and knees when he bruises them. 

She’s obsessed with her pup. She isn’t the only one, either, because Rhaegar is an amazing father; despite how busy he was all the time, he always made sure he was there for a bedtime story and breakfast at the very least. Jon had his father’s attention as much as possible.

 _Can I have attention, too?_ sometimes she would tease him when they were getting ready for bed, putting on the sultry voice Rhaegar liked to hear from her. Then he would spank her until she cried and make love to her until she couldn’t take anymore. Yeah, the sex was definitely still great.

Lyanna and Rhaegar loved Jon so much that one weekend when she had gone to pick him up from Ned’s, after an absolute lollapalooza of a sleepover with Robb, and he had looked at her with big wide eyes while cradling an albino puppy from a litter the two boys found in the woods, the scruffy animal perfectly at peace in his chubby hands—

Long story short, they had a dog now. 

“Ghost!” Jon proclaimed as soon as Rhaegar had melted away from his initial refusal, his reasonings being that Jon was still too small, and it wasn’t a breed well suited to their home seeing as it was clearly some feral wolf mix that belonged in the wild, of course they could find a shelter that could raise him even though his mother was dead, and whatever other arguments he tried. By that time Lyanna had joined forces with Jon, and when they both pouted at him as she fed Ghost from a baby bottle that used to be Jon’s… he never stood a chance, he complained to her later, and she just laughed at him.

Ghost was a year old now, only two heads shorter than Jon was himself. It was hilarious to see them bobbing around together, the best of friends, and Jon seemed happy to make do with Ghost whenever his parents were working. That made Lyanna kinda sad, that they were ever too busy for Jon when he wanted a playmate.

“We might have another child,” Rhaegar always suggested when she whined about Jon being lonely, barely concealed hope shining in his unfathomably deep eyes. He wanted that more than anything, she knew.

“When I’m done with school,” Lyanna promised. And that was that.

* * *

The problem was, Lyanna reflected, that Rhaegar had been an only child for all his formative years, and that his parent’s abusive relationship meant he had no clue what a real childhood should be like. Lyanna sympathized, she really did! They’d done therapy together and talked a lot, cried a lot as well, and they were better off for it. Communication was important. Nowhere more so than with Jon’s upbringing, something they both took very seriously, and everything about it was discussed between them until they came to a conclusion they could both live with. 

Including Jon’s sleeping habits. Actually, they spent a _ton_ of time on Jon’s sleeping habits. It was a bit annoying to Lyanna, but Rhaegar had a very particular idea of things. First it was the crib—Lyanna didn’t care for it, wanted Jon in their bed with all the pillows and blankets removed, so they could keep an eye on him. Rhaegar insisted on a crib and a nursery, and he’d gotten his way in the end, although Lyanna would watch the video stream for hours. Then it was how much stimuli Jon could have while he was sleeping, Lyanna’s proposal being a nightlight and a mobile and soothing music. Rhaegar thought that was a bit much, but he’d read all the articles she sent him and changed his tune quickly enough. Then, it was when to move him out of the crib to a real bed, which thankfully they’d both agreed on when Jon was halfway through two years old.

Now, unfortunately, it was whether Ghost was allowed to sleep in Jon’s bed. Rhaegar said unequivocally no. Lyanna said absolutely yes. It was a stalemate.

“We’ve spent actual _hours_ talking about this by now, he refuses to see sense!” Lyanna exclaims between bites of the fluffy, saffron-heavy rice pilaf Arthur had served her when they all sat down to dinner. She pushes the raisins to the side for Rhaegar to eat later—she can’t stand the wrinkly texture.

Elia and Arthur exchange an entertained glance at each other from where they sit on the other side of the table, probably playing footsie under the table. Lyanna nudges her tights-covered thigh against Rhaegar and he lets a hand linger on her knee, drumming his fingers against the inside enticingly. She hides a smile behind her fork.

They’re three bottles of Elia’s favored Arbor Gold in, and the topic of Jon’s sleeping habits has somehow infiltrated the conversation. Of course.

“He’s sleeping, Lyanna, what does he need the dog in there for? As you well know, the pediatrician said it isn’t advisable to have breeds like Ghost in bed with children because of their aggressive instincts—”

She gasps theatrically. “Ghost would _never!_ ”

“I’m not saying he would, I’m just saying there’s a risk, and Ghost has a perfectly good doghouse outside. If you would just let him stay there, instead of taking him into Jon’s room in the middle of the night, which yes, _I know_ you’re doing, you would see there’s no harm in splitting them up. They need independence.”

She bites her lip. “My baby boy doesn’t sleep well when he’s all alone. He has nightmares.”

Rhaegar rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and fixes her with a look as he tips his wine into his mouth. She watches him swallow with great interest. His hand creeps an inch up her thigh and she traps it in there. On this, at least, they’re always on the same page.

Elia laughs gaily, her eyes swimming in the glow of alcohol. “This is what happens when a Sagittarius marries a Scorpio, you know. Both so stubborn.” Her drunk accent is adorable, and Lyanna tells her so.

“Lyanna has plenty of Capricorn placements, she's not really a Sagittarius,” Arthur offers, the Dornish obsession with astrology ingrained in him despite his normally skeptical nature. Lyanna shrugs—she was never much for the zodiac, although she knows more about it now that they spend a lot more time with the Dornish couple who were two of Rhaegar's best friends.

It wasn’t easy to get to this point. At the beginning, her and Rhaegar weren’t exclusive of course, so his ongoing kink-based sexual relationship with Arthur and Elia wasn’t something she had any say in. She never liked it though, and when he told her that it would all be platonic going forward, she didn’t hide how much having him all to herself made her burn with desire. _Why?_ she asked, curious. _What I have with them is merely pleasure. What I have with you is more, infinitely more,_ he told her. She has a sneaking suspicion they conceived Jon that night. 

The ringing of her phone alarm takes her out of the moment. She blinks.

“Oh, birth control time,” she claps in realization, and Rhaegar helpfully rummages in her bag to find the cute pouch decorated with dancing bananas that contains her pills.

* * *

When the clock struck seven, everyone in the Stark-Targaryen house knew what that meant. It struck fear into none so much as Jon, whose pleasant mood would suddenly turn furtive, as he tried to wiggle attention away from the fact the nightmare named bedtime was coming.

“But I wanna stay with you and Papa!” he pleads with her tonight, and Lyanna hugs him even as she leads him upstairs to brush his teeth.

Part of the nightly ritual was, of course, putting Ghost in his doghouse outside. A farce Rhaegar insisted on, and they all knew it to be useless, but a man needed to take a stand somewhere, Lyanna solemnly agreed. And so Rhaegar opened the door that led to the yard, to where Ghost’s magnificent home awaited him.

“Ghost, _hinikagon_ ,” he commands in Valyrian, and the obedient puppy goes easily, well-trained by the same woman who trained the dogs who lived with the horses. She only spoke Valyrian though, and so Ghost's commands were all like that.

“Don’t worry kiddo, I’ll bring Ghost back,” Lyanna whispers into Jon’s ear, and he smiles with all his baby teeth at her. 

“I heard that!” Rhaegar yells as she climbs the stairs, and Lyanna tousles Jon hair from the top. “Mama’s in trouble!” she dissolves into laughter with Jon, as she transforms from his loving mom into the tickle monster, dreaded around the world, bane of all curly-haired boys everywhere.

By the time she and Rhaegar make it to bed, she’s not up for anything beyond a few kisses and letting him absently pet her as she lays her head in his lap and he reads his book. Her head feels heavy and her muscles deliciously exhausted from all the running around she did today.

He flips the light off when she’s already half-asleep, maneuvering her into being the little spoon as he settles down to sleep. She brings his hand squeeze at one of her breasts, nestling backwards until he gives her the goodnight nuzzles she wanted.

“You better not let that dog in,” he warns her as she rubs her feet against his bare skin for warmth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she promises, perfectly comfy.

* * *

Of course, she was lying. It’s the hour of the wolf when she slips out of their bed, Rhaegar’s slow breathing indicating he was in deep sleep. Good—she slips on a warm robe over her slinky nightgown and tiptoes down the grand staircase, squinting at the harsh LED lighting of the balcony alarm as she disables it.

“Ghost!” she whisper-yells, breath coming out in clouds. The small bell on his collar and the pattering of his feet make too much noise as he comes in with his tail wagging excitedly, and she picks him up while she locks the door and resets the alarm system.

“Gettin’ heavy, aren’t you boy?” she wheezes under his weight, and silently curses when a few floorboards creak as she makes her way to Jon’s room.

The moving mobile and nightlight and baby music are all gone now, but there’s still enough moonlight for Lyanna to see Jon, so innocent and adorable as he dozes, and she softly lays Ghost out next to him on top of the covers. Jon shifts without waking, throwing his scrawny arms around Ghost, sighing happily and smiling. Ghost nuzzles him and curls his furry body into a ball as much as he can with the grip around his neck.

 _Adorable!_ And to think Rhaegar wanted to tear the two pups away from each other. That miserable man.

Lyanna sneaks back into their bedroom, dropping the robe silently over a sitting chair after checking that Rhaegar is still knocked out. As she bends to kick her slippers off, however, his iron voice made soft by sleep deflates her espionage attempts.

“Put the dog back outside, Lyanna.” 

“Dog?” she whispers back, even though the soundproofing made it so Jon wouldn’t hear them no matter how loud they were. She slips back into bed, wrapping her arms around his shirtless chest. Gods she loves how warm he is all the time. “I was just grabbing water cause I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why is my wife lying to me?” he chuckles, cracking one amused eye open.

“No, baby, I'd never,” she insists against his heartbeat, lifting her face to kiss him and distract him.

“Mhm,” he agrees, shaking his head and letting his eyes close again. 

“Actually,” she whispers enticingly, “I was just thinking about how I’m gonna wake you up with a blowjob.”

He snorts then, settling back with his hands underneath his head.

“Hm, is me sucking your dick funny?” she teases with words and kisses trailed down his neck.

“You waking up at five thirty is funny.” He’s right about that, she thinks petulantly, seeing as she does hate waking up early. She traces his abs lazily with a nail, reaching down to lay a soft hand over his soft cock.

“Should I just do it now, then?” she whispers into his ear, tugging it a bit between her teeth.

His eyes are open now, looking at her curiously, and of course she could feel the first inklings of him hardening. It’s as easy as she knew it would be considering it’s been a while since she’s had a chance to do this, and he does quite like it, enough to rise to the occasion even with the siren call of slumber hanging over him.

“Lya, it’s almost two in the morning,” he tells her incredulously, shifting to see the time on the nightstand clock.

“These are very mixed signals you’re sending me, baby. Should I or shouldn’t I?” she asks, hands on the waist of his briefs and mouth ghosting over what was, most certainly, his dick straining for freedom.

“Well, seeing as you’re already down there,” he hums like he’s _so_ unaffected by it all, and then promptly groans in bliss when she starts leaving kitten licks against the head.

She blows him in earnest after a few moments of teasing, and when he finishes with one of his flexing hands spanning her head and her name keened in such ecstasy, she even goes through the trouble of letting him soften in her mouth just because she loves the guy. Tucking him back in and patting his thigh like that was a great job he just did, she pulls herself back up to lay her head on his stomach.

He touches her face affectionately and sighs contentedly, clearly not about to reciprocate. It is pretty late after all, and they should both get some rest.

“Well?” she nudges her nose against him anyways.

“Very convincing,” he mumbles, “for that, Ghost can stay tonight.” She grins victoriously.

* * *

The next morning, Rhaegar pushes a mug of coffee made the way she likes it towards her when she descends down to the kitchen. He’s on the phone, and she starts on Jon’s breakfast while he talks shop. By the time he says _fine, keep me updated_ and hangs up, she’s feeling more chipper and sets the speaker to play upbeat jazz so she can harass Rhaegar by shimmying playfully in his direction.

He laughs bemusedly and takes her by the waist so they can dance loosely around the kitchen. They only break apart when Jon comes bounding the steps, metaphorically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with literally bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Ghost hot on his heels.

“Jon!” Lyanna shrieks as if she didn’t see him just five minutes ago when she checked if he was brushing his teeth, and spins him around to his delight. She deposits him in Rhaegar’s arms so she can finish cutting hearts into his lunch snacks, and Rhaegar kisses Jon before setting him down, speaking softly to him in the language Lyanna can’t manage to learn for the life of her.

That doesn’t bother her. It’s important to Rhaegar that he pass down his culture to Jon, and it’s important to her as well. Jon is like a sponge, though, and his speech is all mixed up between her Northern accent, the King's Landing-based inflections of his schoolmates, and the proper Valyrian pronunciations of words. She loves it; just another way her pup is special.

“Is Mama taking me to school today?” he inquires in the Common Tongue, and Lyanna frowns. “No, pup, Mama has to go to her own school today. Miss Wylla is taking you, okay?”

“Okay,” Jon nods his head agreeably, “I like Miss Wylla. But I like going with you or Papa more, Mama.”

“We wish we could take you everywhere all the time, Jon,” Rhaegar tells him, before sitting Jon down to breakfast and shuffling all his things together. “I will see you tonight, okay _rina_? Papa loves you.”

“Bye, love you!” Jon waves innocently, munching down on his toast and fruit cup.

Rhaegar says goodbye to Lyanna next, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss that lasts ages. She gets quite into it by the time it’s over, and hugs him close when he pulls his mouth away. “You know, it’s kinda unfair that you never finished what we started last night…”

She’s not actually upset of course, but she would like some attention. In the bedroom and otherwise.

He leans over so that only she can hear him, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. “You were a very bad girl last night, Lyanna. I want you to be ready for me when I come home this evening, because Daddy is going to show you what happens when you use dirty tricks to get what you want.”

He pulls away, tipping her chin even as her stomach goes tight. He never usually plays sex games with her when Jon is nearby, much less this specific one, and tonight is so far away that she already feels as restless as the nineteen year old who held the Ben Wa balls inside her all night, right before she gave in and begged for the relief Rhaegar had given her five times that night…

“Rhae,” she whines when she sees how serious his expression is. He pushes a finger against her mouth, silencing her.

“Something to keep in mind.” With that, he was gone.

* * *

After hours of anticipation, night finally comes. She tries to focus on Jon’s coloring homework, but she’s definitely distracted. _You are criminally horny,_ she admonishes herself. It isn’t her fault, she laments, it had been weeks since they’d done anything more interesting than a quick, hard fuck to take the edge off. She adores Jon more than anything in the world, but obviously having a child will put an end to some of the more detailed and time-consuming kinky shit.

When Rhaegar gets home she watches fondly as Jon launches all 45 pounds of his energetic body into Rhaegar’s stomach. Luckily, he catches their son just before the moment of impact. She couldn’t say what they have for dinner, or what they talk about afterwards. She tries to focus on transcribing her interviews from her thesis subjects, but it’s a lost cause because all she’s thinking about is being fucked six ways to Sunday.

When time comes around to put Jon to bed, she sweeps her boy up, not even feeling all that bad when he protests and asks for another hour awake. When she hears the balcony doors close and Rhaegar’s footsteps coming up the stairs, so that he can set Jon down with a story, she scurries into their own bedroom to get “ready,” whatever that means. It’s just some lacy blue underwear under pajamas consisting of a silk tank and shorts, her face wiped clean of any makeup. She sits up in the center of their bed and gnaws at her thumb a little, the suspense positively killing her.

When Rhaegar steps in and the door clicks closed behind him, she smiles wide at him, which he returns. “Hey, baby,” she calls, and he raises a brow. “Sorry, hey Daddy.”

“That’s better,” he murmurs, coming to lean over the sheets and rub his nose against hers. When she pushes forward to kiss him, he pulls back until she sits back on her knees, and only then does he kiss her.

They don’t play games of torturous denial, really, or impact play. She doesn’t want a partner who actually gets off on her pain, and it isn't like that with him at all. Similarly, she calls him _Daddy_ because _Master_ sounds weird to her—not cause she wants to play at being little.

She just likes to push her limits. He likes being in control. It works out.

“Tell me, sweetheart, will you be good for Daddy?” he says against her lips.

“Yes,” she answers, happy to finally be starting the scene.

“Will you tell me the safe word?”

“Roses.”

“Good. Take off your pajamas and get over my knees, then.”

She stretches out over his lap obediently, arching her back a bit and keeping her ass tight for his admiration. He places an exploring hand on her bum that spans nearly half of it and makes her close her eyes.

“Do you know what you did that was bad, Lyanna?” he trails a teasing, threatening finger up her spine.

“I used sex in place of communication,” she dutifully answers, a touch of mischief in her voice.

“And are you proud of yourself for that?”

“A little,” she admits cheekily. He brings down a smack against her bum that makes her yelp. 

“Just being honest, Daddy,” she laughs, and he gives her a second one. 

“You shouldn’t be proud,” he tells her disapprovingly, although she can tell he's holding back laughter. “Daddy works very hard to take care of you and your pup. The least you can do for him is use your words.” 

“But sometimes I want to use my pussy,” she says, being bratty and earning her third smack.

“You’ll get fifteen starting now. Count them out loud and thank me,” he commands, and then he does. He alternates cheeks, switching up intensity, and rubbing her skin afterwards. By the end, she’s sure she’s so red and aching that she chokes out _fifteen, Daddy, thank you,_ sounding a little watery.

“Would you like to use the safeword?” he asks when he’s done, and she shakes her head furiously. They’re just getting to the good part, after all. 

“Alright,” he says, slipping a hand down between her legs, touching her over the scrap of lace. She can’t help the half-gasp half-moan that falls from her; she was wet before he even stepped foot in this room. 

Instead of giving her any relief, he maneuvers her to sit in his lap, legs stretched wide over him with her back to his chest. She lets him pull the cups of her bra down until her tits are free, and when he reaches behind him she’s confused until she feels the nipple clamps with the dangly butterflies on them come up to her nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” she moans, sagging against him once they’re fastened. He rests a finger on the chain connecting them, the one that will tighten them ever so slightly if he pulls.

“Tell me again, Lyanna, are you proud of yourself for your actions?”

“A little,” she purrs. He pulls the chain and she cries out. 

“Try again,” he traces his mouth against her neck, leaving promises in the form of kisses fluttered up her neck.

“I know I shouldn’t have but it was fun,” she laments, and tries to rub herself against him for some friction.

He pulls the chain and she throws her head back to ease the sensation. He runs his hands down her curves. “And is a few minutes of fun a good reason to manipulate me, Lyanna?”

“No,” she says, strangled. They haven’t used the clamps in a while and she’s at a sensitive part of her hormonal cycle right now, so it’s starting to ache faster than usual. Normally she is all for this treatment, but it's more uncomfortable than teasing right now and it's drowning out everything else. 

“I’ll ask one last time, then. Are you proud of yourself?”

“No,” she sobs, grabbing at him blindly behind him. “Roses, Rhaegar, roses.”

He moves swiftly, pulling the clamps from her shaking body and gathering her into his arms, murmuring soft words into her ears, apologizing and laying her on top of him so they can hold each other.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she registers him saying once she feels a little bit less on edge, and she wraps her arms around his neck. “S’okay. My boobs are kinda sensitive right now, though. Otherwise this is good. Daddy.” The nipple clamps were a no, but she still wants to get frisky in other ways.

“Let’s try something else, then,” he says, and moves down to kiss and soothe her flushed red nipples with his gentle tongue, until she’s feeling sexy and floaty again. Then he licks his way down her firm stomach, pausing to lavish attention at her C-section scar, pulling her panties down and putting his gorgeous mouth to her cunt. He stays there for an age, even when she tries to escape, he just levels a hand on her stomach and keeps her in place. She gets two while he’s down there, and also a little half orgasm that has her trembling when he rises up her body one more time, purple eyes black with lust.

“Alright?” he asks as he caresses her face. “Yes, Daddy,” she mouths against the palm of his hand.

“Then come up here, my love,” he urges her, lying propped up on his elbows behind him, cock standing hard and proud with his half-lidded gaze roaming her naked body. She pulls herself up, honestly already a bit drowsy, and straddles him, stroking him lightly and sinking onto him, greedy to feel him deep. She does love riding him, his broad body beneath her and those snake hips working in concert with hers for mutual pleasure. She starts a rhythm that he seamlessly meets. 

When she’s actually getting into it, though, he flips her without warning, cradling her back and head when she yelps at the sudden movement and hooking a leg over his shoulder to an insane angle that drives her up the wall.

“Oh shit, _Daddy,_ ” she faintly hears herself moan when he sits up, a hand on the headboard behind them for control, his pace unrestrained and addicting. “Yeah, keep going, just like that,” she encourages him, gripping him tight as her third peak comes on her suddenly, forcing her back to arch as her hips rise to hold him in place.

He eases her through it, and then turns her onto all fours as soon as she comes back from her daze.

“Gods above, Rhaegar, you feel so fucking amazing right now,” she whimpers, head spinning. His hand around her throat turns her face to him, and he groans when he sees how wet her eyes are, assaulting her mouth with his as he gets closer to his end, she can tell, she’s been with him for so long now—

“I love you, sweetheart,” he mumbles into her throat, groping at her breasts that feel heavier than usual thanks to how much attention they’ve gotten tonight.

“I love you too, Daddy,” she moans throatily, biting her own lip at the pleasure still coursing through her even though she can barely hold herself up any longer. His finish is powerful, the force with which he holds her to him careless in his need to be close together.

Lyanna collapses into the bedding once Rhaegar is no longer holding her up, as he stretches out beside her. He cleans her up perfunctorily, then lies next to her, running a hand over her as she recovers.

When she turns back and leans up for a kiss, he doesn’t give it to her right away. “Tell me, beloved, will you use sex to manipulate me again?” She pouts.

“No, Daddy, I won’t,” she lies, cuddling around him. Of course she fucking will if this is the result, she knows, and he has to know that too.

“That wasn’t convincing,” he says sternly, and Lyanna looks up at him curiously only to realize that, in his view, they aren’t done yet, which is… she’s pretty exhausted, after her three and a half orgasms and all, but she hates bowing out before him because she’s eight years younger than him, and her stamina should reflect that—when she catches his self-satisfied expression, though, she narrows her eyes. 

“You are so evil,” she tells him, and he belts out a laugh which somehow manages to sound elegant. The Rhaegar Targaryen special.

“I did warn you,” he shrugs, reaching into the drawer that houses all their sex toys, out of her sight. “Safeword out if you want, beautiful.” 

“You’re torturing me with orgasms,” she complains, making no moves to form the word _roses,_ indeed not even considering saying it for a single moment, as she shifts to lie against him per his instructions. Whatever he brought out of the drawer is hidden behind him.

“That’s one way to think of it,” he murmurs into her ear, even as he clicks a button and a telling vibrating noise begins. One of Lyanna's lesbian friends recommended this toy, and the first time they used it she squirted multiple times within ten minutes. Luckily they were in the bath at the time, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to look the maids in the eye after that. Rhaegar uses a knee to open her legs, bringing the toy to her poor clit that cries out for mercy. Even still, she reacts to the stimulation, gasping and cursing him while she pushes her body tight against his and shudders in his arms. He’s still soft behind her, but she feels a twitch and a growing pressure indicating that he won’t be soft very long, not if her squirming and sex noises have anything to do with it. The hand that isn't doing wicked things to her frames her face, and she gratefully takes two of his fingers into her mouth as a distraction.

“Will you use sex to manipulate me again?” he asks her, turning the vibration setting higher and forcefully keeping her legs from clamping shut.

“No,” she swears, marginally more sincere than the last time.

"No, who?”

“Ugh, fuck, Daddy!” she wails when he finds the exact perfect angle, grasping her own nipple and pulling it savagely just to match the indescribable war of pleasure and pain between her legs. He licks up the shell of her ear, _one of her spots_ , and she loses it, quite honestly bawling as she cums yet again. 

Four and a half, she thinks distantly, lying flat even when she feels him coax at her with his hands, pulling her up and fixing her cross legged around him while he is situated on his knees, easing her down onto him gently. She sits dead against him, kissing him when she can but mostly holding on for dear life. He lies her down at some point and starts fucking her missionary, which normally isn’t her favorite, but he cants her hips up and finds the sweet spot he could find in a blizzard, and her thighs twitch so hard although Lyanna can barely feel them anymore.

“I’m sorry Rhae, Daddy, I won’t do it again,” she tells him, completely defeated and ready to beg for clemency.

“That is good to hear,” he replies, voice cool as always although she can sense the strain and concentration in it.

“Isn’t that what you want to hear?” she cries helplessly, trying to move away from the way he hits her spot on every single thrust, molding her into reacting even as she feels like little more than a sex doll at this point, which is super hot except she’s barely lucid enough to appreciate it.

“You know what it is that I want, my love?” he says, the demand and vigor in his words taking her by surprise. He does grant her some reprieve though by switching the angle slightly, and she would kiss him if he gave her a second to catch her breath.

“Anything!” she promises.

“I want another child,” he heaves, voice tight like he’s just so close, groaning when she tightens around him involuntarily after his words shock her. “I want you to stop taking those pills and let me put a baby in you, Lya. That’s what I want, will you give it to me? Don’t you see how good we are with Jon, how much we’ll love another one? Come on, sweetheart, I know you want this too!” He was mostly babbling by the end, her normally composed husband all out of sorts, but the naked wanting is written all over his face when she looks to see if he's serious. 

“Yes, Rhae, yes,” she yells, all her reasons for delaying another one flying out of her mind as he manhandles her prone body in his arms so he can marry his mouth to hers. They were close enough to her thesis defense, only 8 months now, it would probably take a bit to actually conceive and then she would be in her first or second trimester by her panel date, which wasn’t really so bad…

He came without warning, his head falling into her neck as he breathed his climax more than anything, his silver hair falling onto her face and some of it into her open mouth. She coughed and spit it out while he returned to earth, and he rolls off of her quickly, still panting with a sheen of sweat over his body. 

She didn’t even bother to pretend at fussing about, hardly having the strength to curl up into his arms as consciousness fades from her.

“Did you mean it, Lyanna?” he jostles her, sounding wrecked but desperate to hear her confirm that she hadn’t just said something in the throes of passion, that instead heightened emotions had forced out of her the truth that he had wanted to hear for years now.

“Hell yeah,” she mumbles, hopefully loud enough for him to hear as her eyes close despite herself, “I’ll call Maester Luwin about going off the pill in the morning.”

* * *

By the time she grumbles herself awake in the morning, Rhaegar was already showered and dressed following his morning run. She hates him. Then again, she loves him. Hard to say at this time of day.

“Morning, beautiful,” he breathes in her ear when he sees her struggling to rouse herself.

“Mrmph,” is her response. He chuckles.

“You had a rough night, sweetheart. Rest a while, I’ll prepare Jon for the day.”

“Okay,” she says, already asleep again. Yeah, she loves him.

* * *

By the time she makes it downstairs, it’s already Jon’s breakfast time, and her cheerful boy has a mouthful of oatmeal that he tries to greet her through. She wipes his cheeks from the ensuing mess and pretends to steal a bite of his food. Of course, sweet child, he then nearly falls over himself to offer her a bite with “the best part” in it, and she dutifully nips at it before thanking him immensely.

Jon was so generous. She wonders where he gets it from. Her, probably.

Rhaegar has a cup of green tea with honey waiting for her, and he looks up from some briefing he's reading to meet her good morning kiss. “Last night was incredible,” she tells him in a low voice, kissing his nose and picking up her mug to warm her hands. He winks at her, some mirth at the corners of his mouth. That was a bit strange.

Rhaegar walks out from behind the kitchen island, approaching the table where Jon sits and giving her a meaningful look. 

“Jon, honey, did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes, Papa,” Jon answers, a mustache on his face from his glass of milk. That was also odd, because Rhaegar always spoke Valyrian with Jon—Lyanna is getting the weird sense that she is missing something important here.

“And did you have any bad dreams?” he asks, and Jon shakes his little head. “No, Papa.”

“Hm,” Rhaegar says, and meets Lyanna’s stare when he flicks the balcony door open. The pattering of puppy feet and the little bell ringing hits Lyanna as Ghost vaults inside and to Jon’s side, nuzzling him as Jon pets him happily.

“Isn’t that interesting,” Rhaegar tilts his head at her, face otherwise completely straight. The satisfied glint in his eyes gives him away, though.

That slimy fucker—he planned this! After all that shit about not using sex as a manipulation tactic too! Her lips part in disbelief.

Before she can say anything, he’s pressing a kiss to her slack mouth. “Let me know what the maester says, my love,” he grins against her, leaving a reverent touch against her stomach and pulling away before she can smack him.

“Do you want Papa to drive you to school today?” he has the audacity to ask their son, who claps in excitement and practically dives into his jacket and shoes. Rhaegar tells Jon to blow Mama a kiss, and Lyanna makes a rude gesture at Rhaegar once Jon can’t see.

 _since you know so much why didn’t you warn me about marrying a scorpio -_-_ she texts Elia.

 _sweetie i tried!_ Elia texts back immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> as a scorpio i can talk as much shit as i want about us imo. if you are a scorpio, i love & respect you


End file.
